Recovery
by morning sunlight
Summary: Someone comes to help Dean recover post Season 1 finale.
1. Chapter 1

_**Recovery**_

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Disclaimer: _Unfortunately, Dean, Sam and John nor anything else Supernatural is mine. Rose Butler I do lay claim to, but she exists only in my imagination so... if anyone knows different, you've got the wrong Rose Butler._

Summary: _Someone helps Dean recover post Season 1 finale_.

Author's Notes: _This story follows a long time after 'Hope for a Child'. It may shed light on some events and reactions if you have read that story before reading this. This story also follows Season 1 - which means that IMTOD didn't happen... _

**_Thank you to Rae Artemis_**.

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_**Chapter One**_

It had been her decision, she had put herself in this position, or so she told herself anyway. That wasn't quite how it happened but it was near enough to pass as the truth. She had bemoaned her lot once too often within her son, Andrew's hearing. He'd heard the complaint before - the "I'm not dead, I just retired that's all." He'd shrugged and then said, "So do something about it?"

"Like what?" she'd said, years of teaching had left her unused to 'spare time'. There had always been that little something extra that she could do for little Jimmy or Amanda or one of her other young charges for the year. And then she'd retired and there'd been nothing.

She hadn't noticed straight off because it had been like an extended summer break at first, she'd spring-cleaned the house, the garden, she'd gone on holiday, she'd met friends for lunch, gone for long walks and read her way through the huge pile of books she'd accumulated with never enough time before to get through as many as she'd bought, and then she'd woken up one day with the house and garden clean, no plans for lunch, no books left to read and a gale blowing that kept her indoors and so had begun her spiraling descent into the depression that was "life after retirement" or more accurately "lack of life after retirement".

She'd been almost a month into her funk when Andrew reached the end of his tether and told her to do something about it.

Despairingly, she'd almost cried, "What? What can I do? I've retired."

He'd answered, "Yeah, retired, you're not dead is what you said. So volunteer put something back for all of your years of health and happiness. I've heard of this project down at the hospital, they get people to go and read or talk to patients, particularly the isolated ones. The thinking behind it is that the extra attention encourages a quick recovery. They're looking for people to help, you're used to reading to people, it'd be something to do and you can choose how much time you spend. I think they ask for a minimum commitment of an hour a week. So what do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Whatever, think about it, let me know if you're interested." It hadn't taken long for her to decide that she was interested, anything to fill in a few hours of the week. They'd started her off reading to a few old dears who were in for hip replacements and the like. She had to admit after a month that not only was it doing her good but it seemed to do exactly what had been suggested as her 'patients' seemed to bounce back quicker than others on the same wards - not that she really know the ins and outs as such of their conditions.

Then it happened, it was spread all over the local news and papers. Everybody in town was talking about it. "_The_ crash" they called it. At first she'd thought it was a bit extreme then she'd seen the photos of the wreck, read the story and she, like everyone else, had been amazed that anyone had been brought out alive, let alone that all three men were clinging to life.

She, like everyone else, had been surprised to hear talk of the two who had recovered, one released, the other counting down the days until he would be freed from the hospital. She'd been pleased, happy to hear that despite the odds they'd come through. The papers no longer mentioned the third man in any more detail other than to say he was still in hospital and had not yet made any significant recovery. The driver of the semi was dealt with throughout in the derogatory terms the locals felt he deserved.

That is when she had been approached by one of the I.C.U. staff. They'd heard how well she was doing, the positive effect the visits and attention had had on 'her' patients and would she consider reading to this young man they had in. She'd listened carefully as they'd explained how this would be different to her other patients, how this would be a radical step as the patient was still unconscious. They'd warned her what to expect in terms of machinery, in terms of his reaction, but it hadn't been enough - nothing could ever be enough to prepare anyone for a sight like that. The stillness of the man's body, the paleness, only a fraction more colour than the stark white of the sheets that covered him. But it was the stillness most of all - a man like this shouldn't be that still.

She'd walked straight back out of his room on her first visit, unable to stay, to see the waste of such a young life. Straight back out and into the arms of a young nurse. The nurse had taken her and sat her down, given her coffee and talked to her a while, convinced her that for all the reasons why she hadn't been able to stay, they were the reasons why he needed her to stay. She didn't know him, but all of a sudden she'd felt the rush the nurse spoke of, the need to help the young man. It wasn't much, but she could read to him.

"How do you know it's even worth it?" she'd asked.

The nurse had explained that they could measure brain activity. He wasn't dead inside yet. She'd explained how at times he could breathe on his own, but that it was as if his body couldn't remember to do it when he was 'asleep' within his coma and so they kept the ventilator attached all the time. There had been significant brain activity, when the other two men spoke to him although, at first, not when anyone else spoke, however, it seemed as he grew to recognize voices, so his brain would show increased activity when they were present but there was no outward signs as yet.

The young nurse had grasped her hand saying, "Please Miss Rose. I know you already do so much but it just... it seems wrong seeing him there and ... I know we're not supposed to get attached but I just feel like we should be doing whatever we can."

She'd steeled herself and walked straight back in, bracing herself for a start reminding herself how she'd felt at the beginning of each new academic year facing new children, new parents and all the new challenges that would accompany them and wondering whether she would be equal to the task.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down next to the still form and resting her hand lightly on his arm, she began to talk, "Hey Dean. You don't know me, but the hospital staff have asked me to come visit you. My name is Rosalyn, Rosalyn Butler but most people here call me Rose or even Miss Rose, which makes feel really old. Mind you, compared to most staff, I probably am really old. What I do is visit people to chat or to read to them, stops me feeling bored at home with nothing to do. Anyway they figure that you can't get away so it might keep me out of everyone's hair for a while if I read to you. I'll be honest with you, I'm not going to stop long today, I just thought I would pop in and introduce myself but I haven't got a book to read to you, so I figure I'll nip into town to find one. The people I read to normally are much older than you, they like all those historical romance novels and that doesn't strike me as your sort of thing, so I'll go and see what they suggest down in town." She chatted for a while longer before she left , telling him about the weather and things that had been happening in the town.

On her way out, she caught sight of the young nurse who came hurrying towards her. "Leaving now Miss Rose? Will you... will you come back again at some point?" Rosalyn heard the nervous edge to her voice.

"I will. I am off into the bookstore as we speak to try and find something a young man might enjoy. I don't think he'd be up for one of those soppy romances I read to Mrs Hodges, do you?"

"So we'll see you again in a couple of days' time?"

"Maybe even tomorrow," she said, pleased with the relief she saw in the nurse's eyes.

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	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer, Summary and Author's Notes all attached to Chapter 1_

__

_Thanks to Rae Artemis for not only betaing the story but also helping me in my search for the elusive book for Rose to read..._

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_**Chapter 2**_

She'd gone into the second-hand bookstore and asked for their advice, they'd not given her any specifics but had suggested that horror, crime, science fiction were quite popular with young men. Another idea had been biographies. 

She'd browsed the shelves for an hour before making her final choice. It hadn't taken her long to rule out horror and crime, the mere thought of that too-still body lying against the stark white sheets had her discarding anything else horrific. It hadn't made choosing much easier though. 

She took the book home and thought she would try reading a bit to see what it was like. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Dean, the too-still young man. She tried to work out why it was that it was the stillness that frightened her the most, why it was she was so sure that **he** should not be so still. 

She couldn't concentrate, couldn't get the picture of the young man lying unmoving out of her mind. In the end, shaking herself from her dismal thoughts, she dropped the book into her bag and set off back to the hospital. 

Getting back to ICU she stopped at the nurses' station. The young nurse from earlier was there. She looked up in surprise. "Miss Rose! Oh!" she sounded disappointed. "You're not going to tell me you've changed your mind, are you?" 

"Oh no, not at all. I thought I'd pop in as I was passing to see if the young man was free and if he is, maybe I could visit again now." 

"Really, oh that's wonderful. Yes, he's free, his father spent a few minutes with him earlier and Sam, the other young man in the crash, he'll be in later I would imagine. He comes every day. But Dean is free just now." 

"So, it's okay for me to spend some time with him now?" 

"Definitely." 

She'd gone back to his room then, opened the door. It didn't get any easier seeing him like that, she couldn't even begin to imagine how horrendous this must be for his family and friends. A body so still, it wasn't natural and it certainly wasn't right for Dean. She looked at him again, wondering why she was so certain it wasn't right. Eventually she decided it must have been his physique. 

"Hey Dean. It's Rose again. I know I said I wasn't coming back until tomorrow or the day after when we spoke earlier but well, I was bored at home this afternoon so I thought I'd drop back in to see if you were free. I've been down the store and chosen a book. I don't know if either of us will like it but... I figured we could give it a try and see how it goes." 

"The book I've chosen is by someone called Spider Robinson. Odd name if you ask me. I mean who would name a child Spider. Mind you in all my years of teaching I've come across some really odd names. I've taught a 'Moonbeam', a 'Storm' and a 'Cloud'. Over the course of a few years I taught a whole family named after the cities they were conceived in. There was Brooklyn, Memphis and Paris. There was another one but I can't remember where exactly that one... you know what I mean. Their Mom used to tell everyone how she came up with the names. If you ask me some information doesn't need to be shared. I had a boy called Blue and a girl called Saffron too. Anyway I guess it just goes to show all sorts of people, all sorts of ideas. So this book then... It's called "Callahan's Crosstime Saloon". According to the back of the book "Callahan's Place is the neighborhood tavern to all of time and space, where the regulars are anything but. Pull up a chair, grab a glass of your favorite, and listen to the stories spun by time travelers, cybernetic aliens, telepaths..., and a bunch of regular folks on a mission to save the world, one customer at a time." So what do you think? Shall we give it a go? Try it? Well, I'll take that as a yes as you've raised no objection to it." 

She adjusted her position in the chair getting herself settled comfortably. Then she opened the book and began to read, "The Guy with the Eyes. Callahan's Place was pretty lively that night. Talk fought Budweiser for mouth space all over the joint..." 

She read on smoothly, smiling in agreement with Callahan's suggestion that no-one sane counterfeits one-dollar bills. She groaned as she read the puns and said, "I don't know about you, but I think some of those are really bad." She paused and looked at him again. It was strange this one-sided conversation. She kept somehow expecting him to join in and just suddenly answer her questions. Realistically with a ventilator, even if he was awake, he wasn't going to be answering her, but she remembered what the nurse had said about brain activity. Maybe if she asked him things, he'd be thinking about the answers, maybe it might encourage more brain activity, bring him nearer to waking. She started reading again, "'Why, you young whelp, aorta poke you one,' roared the Doc, and the bar exploded with laughter and cheers." 

Hearing a noise behind her, Rosalyn looked round expecting to see one of the nurses and was surprised to see a very tall young man looking at her. Whilst not quite threatening, the man's stance was wary, prepared might be a good way to describe it. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?" he asked bluntly. 

She stood laying the book down on her chair and turned to face the young man fully. As she looked at him, she could see the fading bruises and healing cuts and guessed that he must be the other young man the nurse had spoken of. She stretched her hand out to him and said "Rosalyn Butler. The hospital staff asked me if I would read to your friend to see if having extra company might help his recovery." 

"He's not my friend. He's my brother... I mean he is...my friend. I... He's Dean." She watched the exhausted young man in front of her, saw him move to his friend's side. Brother's side she mentally corrected herself. "He's more than just a brother," the man said. 

"I understand." 

She saw him lean down taking the unencumbered hand of the man on the bed, the only part of him free from equipment and bandages. "He's Dean," the man said again, as if the word itself said more than brother and friend. 

He looked back up at her, as if he'd almost forgotten she was there, "Sorry, erm Mrs... I'm sorry, what...?" 

"Rosalyn, or Rose which ever you prefer. The hospital runs a program..." she went onto explain the work she had been doing and how the hospital had wondered if trying the same process might help Dean. She finished with, "So this is the book I got... What do you think? Would he enjoy it?" 

Sam looked at the book and said, "It's worth a try... it's a long time since he's had an opportunity to read just for pleasure." 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah... just tired, worried about him, you know. He's so still, he's never still." 

"I understand, look I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, but... I'll leave you and Dean and I'll come back another time." 

"I'm Sam, Dean is my older brother and... you know... thanks, thanks for doing this for him... I appreciate it." 

"The other man in the car with you both, how's he doing?" 

"Fine, they released him, our Dad, a few days ago. He's staying with me at the motel for now. He comes to see Dean when he comes down to have his dressings checked and changed. We... we don't tend to come down together. It's better that way, better for Dean..." 

"It means he has company for longer, so like you say it is good for him that way. I was thinking of popping in tomorrow, when would be a good time do you think? I don't want to get in your way."

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	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: **Disclaimer and summary are attached to chapter 1, but at this point I want to add that being as this is an alternate to the start of Chapter 2, John does not make the sacrifice that he did there and so... he doesn't have to come across well... in fact I can pretty much guarantee that if you read on he won't come over well... so if you don't like nasty John, you have been warned._

_**

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Chapter ****3** _

"The little minister looked at him for a long spell, and then he began to laugh and laugh. It was a different kind of laugh than we'd heard from him..."

She paused in her reading as she heard the door open. Looking behind, she saw an older man walk into the room, recognising him instantly as the third man in the car, even though she'd never met him before. The walking stick and limp combined with healing bruises on his face were all the indication she had needed to be sure.

"Mr Simmons? I am Rosalyn Butler and I've been..."

She didn't get to finish her explanation as he interrrupted saying, "Sam's already told me. I'd like to have a word with him. Would you mind giving us a few minutes?"

"No, I'll go. Dean, I'll see you another time." She stood to leave, but he put his hand on her arm.

"Please, Mrs Butler, I can't stay long because I really have to get away. If you don't mind hanging on, I'm sure he'd be grateful of your company again."

"Okay, I'll wait outside." She walked out pulling the door closed behind her quietly.

She found a seat a little way down the hall and sat down to begin her wait. She was surprised a few minutes later when she heard a door banging loudly and the sounds of footsteps running down the hall. She looked up to see Sam storming towards her.

Seeing her sitting in the corridor, he said, "**_He's_** in with him, isn't he?" She could hear the barely contained anger in his voice.

She stood reaching her hand to his arm to calm him, "Sam..."

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking her arm off as he stormed into Dean's room. "You bastard..." his voice echoed down the corridor, "You fucking bastard. How...? How could you...? I don't believe it..."

"Sam..." She heard the deep voice of Mr Simmons try to stop his son. "You know why it has to be like this."

"It doesn't _**have**_ to be like this. Your son is in hospital, barely clinging on to life and you can't wait to skip town."

"Sam, you have to understand, you have to consider the priorities."

"_**Dean**_ is the frigging priority." She didn't like them arguing in the room with Dean. If the hospital was right and he could hear and was internally reacting to everything that was happening, this could only be making everything worse.

She stood, she would have to fetch a member of staff to intervene or do so herself because it couldn't continue.

"Sam. You should shut up and concentrate. Dean, unlike you, understands. He wouldn't expect me to just sit back here and wait indefinitely."

"Dean!... Expect!... Dean never expects you to do anything. Dean does not understand but he lets you get away with it. Just because he lets you treat him like shit, doesn't mean you have to."

"Sam!"

"Mr Simmons! Sam! Please..." She didn't have time to fetch anyone, the angry atmosphere was increasing exponentially within the room. "I really think that you shouldn't be arguing." She didn't add, "in here" although it was her main reason for stopping them. "Gentlemen please... perhaps you could quietly and reasonably have this discussion elsewhere and maybe Dean and I could continue with our book." She ushered the two men toward the door.

She turned back to Dean and took her seat at his side, leaning across to his bed to say, "It's alright Dean. They'll sort it out, there is nothing for you to worry about, nothing at all. We all just want you to get better."

She opened the book and began to read, but found it impossible to continue with the noise that now came in through the door from the corridor.

"Sam, this is a hospital, keep yourself under control."

"You..."

"Dean won't have a problem with this. "

She wondered what could ever be more important to a parent than their children. It didn't matter how old she was or for that matter her son was, she still worried about him. Yet this man seemed, from what she could gather from the shouts emanating from his youngest son, to be about to walk away from the hospital. She couldn't think of anything her son could do that would ever lead her to do that." Oh Dean, I'm sorry," she said. She thought back over her years of teaching and the odd child she'd had each year who was neglected or abused and wondered why some people ever had children, wondered what these boys' young lives had been like.  
"You know something **_Dad_**," she heard the strained emphasis Sam placed on the word. "Pastor Jim was more of a father to him than you ever were, but he would never say that to you. And as for me, well, we both know he brought me up, not you."

"Sammy..." It´s as the father says that one word that the memory shudders into existence in her mind, a little boy with a bruised face running from her classroom, calling, "Sammy?!" A little boy snatching up a pre-schooler into protective arms saying, "How did you get here? You know you have to wait for me." An older man, a pastor, reassuring, a warm embrace. The memory of a stiff soldier-like father, distant but seeming sincere. She struggles to remember the face of the child clearly, the face of the father then. The name Dean Simmons? It didn´t seem familiar at all, ... but Dean, that name did seem to fit the image.

"Oh Dean, honey, is this you? I´ve always remembered you. You and your little Sammy. Is that him? He´s grown so tall, so handsome, I bet you´re proud of him. Do you remember me, I wonder? You were such a sweet boy and look at you now. I remember being so worried for you, those awful bruises and when you gave up cookies because you were so sorry about what you´d done and it was never ever your fault. I remember how you looked out for your little brother and your little friend in class... let me think what was his name?... Todd... Dean and Todd, that was it, such good friends, you used to look out for him too, didn´t you? You helped me stop the lad who was bullying him, and you helped him with his math. I remember just how hard you worked, so hard learning how to read, how much you improved, how much you wanted to read those stories to little Sammy."

The sound of the voices from the corridor raised further, "You can´t walk away from him, you can´t leave him here like this."

"Sammy..."

"You can´t!"

"Sam, I can. I don´t have to want to do it but this has to end and the only way it will end is if I keep on its tail now. If I get it this time, this can all be over."

"If you go after it and leave him, we are over, _through_. Don´t bother coming back."

"Sammy..."

"I mean it, you walk away now, you stay gone. Don´t come looking for either of us. I´ll tell him you died in the crash."

"Sammy... you wouldn´t."

"You sure?"

She heard movement behind her and turning she saw Sam. She saw devastation on his features as his eyes closed and they both listened to his father´s footsteps recede down the corridor. She stood and moved over to him. Resting her hand on his arm, she guided him to the chair she´d been sitting in. Gently she pushed him to sit.

"I won´t lie to him. It´s going to hurt him what ever I say, but I won´t lie about this."

"It´ll be okay."

"I´m sorry," he said.

"Sam, it´s okay, you still have Dean."

His sad eyes looked at her then settled on his brother, "How can you be sure?"

"Because Dean Winchester used to do anything for his brother and something tells me that won´t have changed in the years since I last saw you both."

"Winchester? I... I don´t know what you mean. That´s not us, our name isn´t..." but his heart wasn´t in the argument. His heart was lying broken somewhere at the bottom of his stomach as he tried to rationalise how his father could walk away again. Was nothing Dean did ever going to be good enough to get him to stay when he was needed?

"I won´t tell anyone, just promise me this, you´ll stick by him and when he´s better, maybe the two of you could head up to see Pastor Jim or call him now, maybe he would come down to visit. He always seemed to be especially fond of you both. What about your other uncles... the other men who used to look after you sometimes... I can´t remember their names now, it´s been so long, but I do remember that one was tall, quite austere looking and bald and the other shorter with a beard, a bit grizzled-looking if you know what I mean."

"Caleb and Bobby."

"Well..."

"Pastor Jim and Caleb are..." Sam sighed, closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "They´re both dead now. We don´t really have anywhere to go although... I suppose Bobby. We saw him not long ago, he and Dean stayed in touch."

"I´m sorry to hear about them. Those must have been difficult times for you both."

"It wasn´t long ago. They both died just a few weeks ago, within days of one another."

"Oh Sam. I´m sorry, both of them and now this."

"It upset Dean more, I... I went to College, Stanford. I´ve not seen them in a few years but Dean... Dean stayed, he tried to look out for Dad."

"Your brother was always good at that, looking out for people who needed it."

"How... how did you know Dean?"

"I taught him many years ago. Before you were out of pre-school. He looked out for you and the little lad he was friends with in my class. Todd his name was."

"You remember Dean from that far back. God bro," he said taking his brother´s hand and talking to him," You must have caused some havoc in Mrs Butler´s class for her to remember you twenty years on. What did you do?"

She smiled at both boys affectionately. "He was a good boy in my class, always tried hard. He had a difficult year, but he was never a bad boy. I had the pleasure of a number of conversation with Pastor Jim and a few with Caleb and Bobby."

"I notice you don´t mention Dad in that. Are you sure you got the right Dean though? I can´t imagine him being all sweetness and light. Too much of a hardass, aren´t you bro?"

"He was wonderful. He always tried hard to please."

"Definitely something changed there. I bet there´s not many teachers who would say that about him. I mean Dean´s not stupid, but he plays the part well. He can do the bizarrest of things and you realise how clever he really is, but I guess he´s just too lazy to show it most of the time." Sam ran an affectionate hand through his brother´s hair, brushing it away from his face.

"Perhaps his mind was on other things. I know he worked really hard on learning to read when he was with me. I think the Pastor, Caleb and Bobby spent a lot of time with him on that. He was desperate to read you stories at bedtime. I think that was his main motivation."

"I remember being a kid and him reading to me. He did it until... I guess I must have been about 11. I mean I knew how to read and everything but there was something reassuring about lying in bed and Dean reading to me."

"I can imagine. I remember when you were little how attached you were to Dean, how when Pastor Jim brought you to my class to collect Dean, you constantly wanted his attention, even more than any of the adults."

"He was the constant in my life, always has been right up until I left for College. It´s been harder since I came back. We don´t find it easy to talk."

"I don´t imagine you do. Your brother never has. I told him before he left he needed to learn to ask for help when he needed it."

"You said that to him? It´s not something I think he ever really mastered. Why did you tell him that?"

"There were a few problems when he was in my class and he didn´t tell anyone. It was almost too late for anyone to help when we found out. Pastor Jim took you in. It was more or less the last time I saw you both."

"What happened? We spent time at the Pastor´s on and off over the years, so I have no idea which one would follow on from us being here."

"Your father had broken his leg."

"We were alone? Did you find out or someone else? Somewhere along the line Children´s Services were involved, I suppose."

"No, although it was a close thing."

"Tell me about him, Dean, I mean. What was he like? There´s so much that... I don´t know how to explain. When I was a kid, he was just Dean, and Dean just did everything I needed him to. I never questioned any of it. I never realised how wrong it was. I didn´t mean... you know."

Rose looked at the young man in front of her, wondering what she could possibly say because there was one fact she could be certain of and that was that telling Sam what had happened would not help the situation with his father. Even worse was the possibility that it would damage the relationship with his brother. Would he be able to comprehend the desperation his brother had felt all those years ago? Had he ever realised just how bad things had got? How much his brother had had to sacrifice without a second thought? A picture of Dean shivering on the steps during recess flashed through her mind. What could she ever say to make it right for both men? If Dean had been able to hide the truth then, how much more well hidden would it be now?

As the pause extended into awkwardness, they looked at one another, neither sure what to say. Eventually, it was Sam who broke the silence, "I´m sorry, I shouldn´t have asked."

"No, I´m sorry, Sam. It was a long time ago, I don´t know how to explain what happened. Also... I´m not sure that now is the time, some of it might be... painful for Dean to remember... it is for me when I think how different things almost were."

"Oh... I... I don´t know what to say¨" Sam was surprised, worried what could have happened.

"Honey, it´s fine. You should maybe spend some time now, just you and your big brother. I think right now your voice, nice and calm, might be just what he needs to hear, reassure him that the two of you are okay, that you are here for him."

"You really believe he´s still there, don´t you? That he´s going to come back to us?"

"I do, Sam, I do."

"I _want_ to believe it. I _want_ it to be true. I _want_ him not to be like this, to be... I don´t know..."

"You want him to be like Dean has always been, alive, vibrant, full of energy, buzzing, making you want to smile and..."

"He nearly died a few months ago."

"Really? What happened?"

"He... We heard shouts, screams, children crying in this old abandoned house. We went in thinking some kids had been messing around and got into trouble, but it was worse than that. There was this guy, he´d kidnapped them. Dean tackled him, while I got the kids out, but there was all this water and this faulty wiring. Dean and the bastard fell and were electrocuted. Dean had a heart attack, they only gave him a few weeks to live." She watched as he gripped his brother´s hand in an almost vice-like grip as if by sheer willpower alone, he could pull his brother back from wherever he had gone.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, "He came back then, Sam and he´ll fight his way back this time. All you have to do for now is believe in him."

"He gave up and Dad didn´t come. Just like he´s walked away now. Dean needed him, needed more than just me."

"He came back, Sam. Dean did come back... to you... not to your Dad... Maybe he did give up for a while but he came back in the end."

"I didn´t give him a choice. I made him come back and for what? This?"

"Sam, you gave him a reason to come back, maybe you did something that gave him a way or a chance to come back, I don´t know, but he wouldn´t have come back if he didn´t want to and he´ll want to come back now too. Look I´m going to leave the two of you. I´ll visit again tomorrow but Sam, if... you know, if you need anything, I´ll leave my number with the unit clerk... just call... I won´t mind."

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	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note_: Disclaimer, summary and thanks can all be found on chapter 1.

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_**Chapter 4**_

She had visited for at least an hour every day reading and talking but then he'd woken up... and everything changed.

She´d stayed away since he´d woken up, unsure of how to deal with the change in situation, not sure how he would react to seeing her. He had enough to deal with in the present without difficult memories from the past being dredged up too. 

She had stayed away, but she couldn´t avoid visiting any longer. Sam had phoned to ask her why she hadn´t been in. She didn´t know how to answer. She tried using the excuse that she had only been asked to read to Dean while he was unconscious, but that sounded callous. Sam had sounded hurt and confused and now she felt even more guilty and even more anxious about the trip he had begged her to make. Was it really fair to Dean for her to visit? 

She sighed and turned to walk away again. She couldn´t do it, she couldn´t risk making things worse. 

She reached the far end of the parking lot and stopped again. What if the boys needed something? What if Sam had already told Dean that she had been visiting? How much worse would that be for him? She turned and started to return to the hospital entrance again. She almost reached the door before the doubts were too much for her to cross the threshold. She couldn´t blame Sam, but she knew the truth about what had happened and no good could come of the truth coming out if Dean had managed to forget about it. Dean didn´t need reminding of it, if he had managed to bury the memory, none of it had been his fault after all. She turned and started away from the door again. 

She felt a hand clamp on her shoulder at the same time a voice interrupted her thoughts,¨"Rose? Mrs Butler?" 

She turned forcing a smile on to her face, but even she knew it couldn´t look right, definitely too strained. "Sam! Imagine that, so, ... erm... what are you doing here?" She grimaced as she finished the question. She knew perfectly well what he was doing here, he was visiting his brother, just like she´d agreed to do and was currently in the process of trying to avoid. 

"Is everything okay?" he asked, concern evident clearly in his voice. 

"Fine! Fine! Why wouldn´t it be? I was just..." She couldn´t think of anything to say at that point and so she just let the sentence hang. 

"Have I... look I´m sorry. Whatever it was I did, I´m sorry, but please don´t avoid visiting Dean, because of me." 

"You? Sam, you haven´t done anything wrong. Neither of you have... I'm just not sure that me visiting will be a good thing for Dean right now." 

"But... I´m sure he´d love to see you, if you liked him as much as you say you did, I´m pretty sure he must have been fond of you too. Trust me, there weren´t many teachers who he tried so hard to please." 

She closed her eyes, seeing the image burned on the back of her eyelids of a child sobbing in her arms in a late night store, a child asleep on her lap in a desolate motel room, a child holding out a bunch of hand-picked flowers nervously. "Sam, you don´t understand what you´re asking me." 

"Tell me." 

"I... I don´t know that I should. It´s not fair on Dean." 

"This isn´t fair on Dean. He needs visitors, he´s brooding. He thinks it´s his fault that Dad has gone. He won´t listen to me. I´ve called Bobby but he can´t get here for another couple of days and Dean´s just sinking fast. He can´t keep this up. I´m finding it hard to bite my tongue right now because it´s Dad´s fault that Dean feels like this, but he won´t hear a word against him. I really don´t want to argue with him¨." 

"No you mustn´t be drawn into that, Sam. No matter what you think, don´t you fall out with Dean over what your father has done. I will come up and say hello, but Sam, I don´t know that he will want to see me. I don´t want to make matters worse." 

"Okay, but I´m sure it won´t."

* * *

They are in the elevator heading up to Dean´s room when Sam tries to break the uneasy silence. "You looked kind of strange out there." 

"When?" 

"Just now, walking to the door, stopping, walking away, stopping, coming back..." 

"I bet I did," she smiled at him, ruefully, "If you were watching me, why didn´t you stop me making a fool of myself?" 

"I tried, I called, but you turned and walked away. It´s what made me think I´d upset you. Then you turned and came back and I wasn´t sure. Then you turned again and I stopped you." 

"Huh!" 

"So... you´re really that worried about seeing Dean?" 

"Guess I must be." 

"You worry me as to what went on. What could be that bad? If I say to you, we had several near-misses with Children´s Services, and that most of the time, it was the Pastor who saved us from them, will you tell me what happened when we were here?" 

"No. I´m sorry." 

"I guess it must have been bad then?" 

"Sam, please, just leave it." 

"Okay, sorry." The elevator doors opened and they stepped out and Sam strode down the corridor to the door to Dean´s room before realizing she wasn´t beside him. "Oh God, sorry, I forget," he said apologetically as he turned. "I get so used to it being Dean beside me and he keeps up. Sorry." He looked embarrassed. 

She smiled sympathetically at him. "You go see him, I´ll be right in." 

She barely saw him move before she felt his hand grasp her arm gently but firmly and placing his other hand on her back, he propelled her into the room. "We can´t put it off any longer."

* * *

As she caught sight of him, he took her breath away. He was every bit as handsome as she had suspected he would be as a child. She could see it now his face was no longer hidden by the ventilator mask, his facial injuries were healing and the bruises had faded away. But she could see something else that she recognized - defeat! She had seen it that night in the motel as he slumped against the table, tired to the point of exhaustion, believing that if he slept Sammy would be taken away from him. Now there was defeat in the way he stared disinterestedly at the TV, defeat in the line of his shoulders, defeat in the way he slouched into the pillows as if he wished they would hide the world away so he didn´t have to face it anymore. 

"Hey Dean, look who´s come to see you. It´s Rose, Mrs Butler... Do you remember I told you she came to read to you before while you..." 

"Sam, I´m not stupid, yes I remember. Mrs Butler, thank you, it was kind of you. I really appreciate that you would give up so much time." They were the right words, pseudo-annoyance at his brother, gratitude to her, but there was not even the vaguest hint of expression and his eyes never wavered from the TV screen. 

Her heart went out to the young man in front of her. Life had been so cruel to him in the suffering it had placed on his shoulders. 

Sam tried again to engage his brother´s attention fully. "You know we met Mrs Butler when we were kids. We must have lived round here for a while." Both of them watched Dean closely. Dean continued to watch the TV and gave no indication he was listening. "Dean, I wonder if you remember her. She was your teacher." 

That got his attention, his eyes came away from the TV and he looked at her for the first time. He didn´t say anything, just let his eyes focus on her. Suddenly his eyes widened in recognition, anxiety increasingly evident. He drew a deep, gasping breath and said, "Get out! Now! Both of you out! Leave me. Leave me alone. Get out!" 

His voice continued to rise as Sam moved closer to calm him. "Get out!" He shook off the hand Sam had rested on his arm, grimacing at the pain the movement sent coursing through him. "Leave me... please." The final word was almost a sob. 

Rose stepped forward to Sam´s side and taking his arm, she said quietly, "Come on Sam. Dean needs some space. Leave him be." She gently pushed Sam to the door. With Sam outside, she turned back to pull the door closed and saw Dean´s shields begin to crumble. She wanted nothing more than to gather him in her arms as she had done that late night in the supermarket when he was just a broken child. Now she reminded herself he was grown, an adult who had a right to privacy, a right to not have other people´s need to help forced on him until he was ready.

* * *

Sam sat down in heavily on the seating down the corridor. "What... what was that about? What the hell happened when we were here?" 

"Sam, it´ll be okay. It´ll just be because he´s tense. A lot has happened over the last few months like you said and he´s only just come round, and it probably was just too much for him to deal with at the minute." 

"I hope you´re right. Maybe I should go back in and see him." 

"Give him a few minutes, Sam. Let him get himself on an even keel again." 

"I´m sorry I dragged you back. You knew how he´d react didn´t you?" 

"No Sam. I didn´t expect that. I wasn´t sure he´d want me here, but I didn´t expect that. It was quite a surprise!" 

"You... you don´t have to stay. I´ll walk you out." 

"It´s okay. I´ll wait with you until he´s calmed down, although could I ask you to do something for me?" 

"Not ask you to visit again?" he said tentatively. 

She smiled, "No, not that. Could I ask you to get me a camomile tea from the cafeteria? They don´t have them in the machines and all that racing up and down the parking lot has left me quite parched!" she finished with a gentle laugh. 

She saw Sam relax and smile back. "I bet it has. Of course I will. I´ll be as quick as I can." 

"Don´t worry, I have books in my bag, I can read while I wait." He gave her a grin as she moved to pull a book from her bag. She watched him leave, waited until she heard the elevator doors open and close and listened for returning footsteps just in case. Then she pushed the book back into her bag, stood up and went over to Dean´s door.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

She knocked gently before opening the door but didn't wait for a response. All was calm and quiet as she pushed the door open. Her eyes went straight to Dean, curled on his side as much as his injuries would allow, face turned away from the door. 

"Dean," she said quietly, as she moved to the side of the bed and gently touched his shoulder, "Dean." 

He didn't move, but he did speak, "Why did you come? How did you know?" 

"I didn't. I came because the hospital asked me to. I read to other patients too." 

"Dad's gone," his voice is almost toneless. 

"I know." 

"I think he hates me now and Sam... I don't know why he's still here." Defeated, she'd thought that of him the first time she saw him awake and now... that seemed to be all there was. 

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't Sam be here?" 

"He probably pities me, feels sorry for his poor shit of a brother." 

"Dean! Don't talk like that! Sam is sorry that you're in here, but it's not pity and you are not to talk about yourself like that." 

"How can he still be here?" 

She wondered how he couldn't see the truth. "Why wouldn't he be here, Dean? You're his brother. You would do anything for him, wouldn't you? You would never leave him alone like this, would you? So he feels the same about you. He loves you, Dean you're his brother." 

"He shouldn't. Not now. Not now he knows what I did." 

"What you did? What did you do, Dean? What do you think would make him change how he feels?" 

"I couldn't work it out you know. I couldn't get my head round Dad not being here. Why would he leave like that? I mean, I get when he doesn't return the phone calls, when he doesn't come when he's somewhere else, but he was here, he was with us in the accident and ... he left." She could hear the confusion and hurt as he tried to reason out his father's actions. "But now, I know why. You're here. You told them... told them what I did and now they know." 

"No Dean. You're wrong. I don't know that it makes it any better about your Dad, but I haven't told them anything and I told you all those years ago, what you did wasn't right but it wasn't your fault. You shouldn't have been in that situation. You shouldn't have _ever_ needed to make that decision." 

"I let them down." 

"No. You didn't, not ever." She squeezed his arm, hoping to reassure him, drive away the defeat. 

"If you haven't told them, why has Dad gone? I've tried. I try... I really do... to make him proud. I try to..." 

"Dean... I don't understand your Dad. I didn't when you were small and I don't now, but I look at Sam and I know he should be proud of you, of what you did for your family." 

"Sam's smart, he went to Stanford. He was doing well." 

"Dean, you're smart, you always have been. Your choices in life were different that's all.. Turn over, let me see you, see how you're grown up." 

He turned back. She saw him wince as the movement hurt his chest. She leant in to help adjust the pillow behind him so he could get comfortable. "Thank you." 

"It's okay, Dean." 

"I'm sorry about before. I didn't expect it to be you. It just suddenly ... rushed in... everything." 

"Dean, it's okay." 

"All these years, I've been waiting... waiting for them to find out, to see me for what I really am." 

"Dean, that was never who you were. You are not defined by that. Talk to Sam about it and you'll see, but tell him the whole truth, tell him what happened before not just that you stole something. Tell him why you had to do it." 

"He'll despise me. He's never done anything like that." 

"He's never needed to Dean, because you were there to make sure he was alright. If he's got any sense he'll realise that and realise that there wasn't someone like that for you. If he doesn't," she smiled before finishing, "I'll sort him out." 

She saw just a fraction of relaxation come into his face. He smiled at her and shook his head, "He´d be no match for you. You just have to make sure you don´t look at his face. He´s got this look he gives, women just cave." 

"I used to be a teacher remember, we are immune to those looks!" 

"Probably a good thing with Sammy." 

"So apart from getting into car accidents and looking out for your Dad and brother, what else have you been doing since we last met?" she asked, pulling up the chair to sit down close enough to take his hand in hers. 

"That about sums it up." He looked away embarrassed that one sentence summed up his non-life. 

"You are too good for that Dean. Sam said he'd gone to Stanford and you'd stayed to look out for your Dad." 

"Yeah." 

"I'm sorry he doesn't treat you with more respect. I don't understand how he can just walk away." 

"I let him down. I make mistakes." 

"Not enough to warrant this, Honey. You need to learn to be strong..." He started to interrupt her. "No hear me out... strong in a new way. You need to be strong enough to say no to your Dad, strong enough to walk away and make your own life, do what you want. Sam will help you, I'm sure." 

"But Dad, see Mom died when..." 

"No Dean. When you were in my class, Pastor Jim used the excuse of your Mom having died for everything that kept happening to you. He and I both knew then it wasn't a good enough excuse then. It certainly isn't twenty years later. Listen to me Dean," her voice was insistent and she didn't continue until he made eye-contact. "I am not suggesting that your Dad is wrong for still loving your Mom. I am not for an instant suggesting he should have found someone else or that he should just forget about her, but he should not have sacrificed you and Sam to her death because that's all he thinks about now isn't it? Not her life, their joy, their successes, everything is about her death and I'm sure she would have wanted more for him... more from him." 

"She didn't want to die." 

"No, that I'm sure of, but sometimes these things happen." 

"Yeah," his voice was sad, but accepting.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

_**Recovery

* * *

**_

_Disclaimer and Summary attached to Chapter 1. Thanks to Rae Artemis for putting up with me when I have my doubts about my writing as well as fixing all the bad bits. Thanks also to those people who have taken the time to review - it is much appreciated.

* * *

_

_**Chapter 6**_

There was a knock on the door, she dropped his hand and leant back in the chair. "It's probably Sam," she said, "I asked him to go and get me some camomile tea from the cafeteria." 

He nodded and cleared his throat, rubbing his hands over his face before calling, "Come in." 

It was Sam, "Hey you two." 

"Hey," she replied with a smile. "Oooh, my tea, lovely." 

"Sam, I... I'm sorry." 

"It's fine. How are you doing?" 

"Sam... I... " he sighed and looked at his hands, saw a much older small hand come into his line of sight and pat his hands. He nodded. "I need to tell you what happened when we lived here, but..." 

"I think it's time I went and stretched out those leg muscles after my jog round the parking lot. I'll leave you boys in peace but if it's alright with you, I'd love to visit again. I still want to know how that book ends." 

"Don't go!" his voice sounded panicked as she stood to leave. "Please." She sat down again and patted his arm. He looked at her, waiting for the confirmation that he was doing the right thing, that she would stick it out with him. She nodded at him and gave him a warm smile. 

He drew a breath, "It was a bad time for Dad when we were here. There was a lot going on, you know how it was sometimes. Pastor Jim came and stayed at the motel with us for a while. It was winter, I guess Dad was struggling more than normal because I remember you had no coat. The Pastor took us to get some clothes for you and stuff when Dad was away." She remembered it differently, knew it had been Dean with no coat or jumper because he had given both to Sam, but she just listened and wondered if Sam would know that too. 

"Anyway, they set up this routine, one night a week, either Bobby, Caleb or the Pastor would come down to collect us from school and check we were okay. Then it fell apart. I don't know why exactly. Dad went away and he... he didn't come back when he was supposed to and none of them came. Dad had left the Pastor's number by the phone but told me only to phone him if I absolutely had to, if I couldn't sort it by myself." He drew a deep breath, trying to keep going. She squeezed his arm in support. He nodded at her again, a look of gratitude in his eyes. She looked at Sam, could see his mind working overtime trying to see where this tale was going. 

"He was gone a long time, I don't know, I lost count, it felt like forever, but I suppose it couldn't have been more than a week, but he was supposed to be gone overnight. We... there was... I didn't... " He stopped and biting his lip turned to her, eyes begging her to change the past so he didn't have to tell Sam the truth. 

"It'll be alright, Dean, you can tell him." 

"There was nothing left. I had nothing left to feed you, nothing for us to eat. Mrs Butler... Mrs Butler..." she took his hand in hers and held on tight. "Mrs Butler caught me in the store. I... I was stealing so we'd got something to eat. I knew it was wrong." 

"God! Dean! I'm sorry I... Why didn't you ever say before?" 

"I'm not exactly proud of myself, Sam." 

"Dean, it wasn't your fault. What would you have rather happened, we starved?" 

Dean looked away, refusing eye-contact with either of them. "Dean... listen to Sam." 

"What else could you have done?" 

"Pastor Jim said I should have phoned him. It only happened the once Sam, honestly." 

"Dean, listen. Dad was at fault, he shouldn't have gone, shouldn't have put you, _us, _in that situation. You weren't to blame." 

"I let you all down again." 

"Is that what you were upset about earlier?" 

"I thought you knew what I'd done. I thought that was why Dad had gone." 

"Dad doesn't know?" 

Dean shook his head, "I don't think so. Only Mrs Butler and the Pastor knew what I did... unless did... did you tell him?" 

"No, I told the Pastor and told him things had to change and that you must _never_ be put in that position again, I don't know whether he ever told your Dad." 

"Dean, Dad leaving has nothing to do with what happened or rather, he left for the same reason he always leaves, for the same reason we were on our own then, for the same reason you got hurt because..." 

"Sam!" Sam stops checked by his brother's voice into silence, not sure whether Dean is stopping him because he doesn't want to hear, doesn't believe or just doesn't want him to say anything in front of Rose. 

"Dean, it isn't you, it's never _been_ you that was the problem. Dad has just never..." 

"Dean," Rose interrupted him this time, deciding it was time to redirect the conversation away from the dangerous area of the boys' father. "Did I tell you the truth? Did I say it would be okay to tell Sam, that he would understand?" He nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "So if I tell you whatever drives your Dad away, it isn't you or anything you've done, can you trust me on that?" He looked at her, his eyes seeming to search her for any hint that she might be misleading him, might be saying it just to make him feel good and appease him. She understood both men at that point, the one not understanding his worth in life, the other not understanding how his brother couldn't understand, wondering when his brother lost the ability to understand. She understood how, his mother's death, compounded by a father who, at best, used him as a dogsbody-cum-childminder had done it over the years. 

"You boys need to look out for each other, whatever happens from here on in. You should look out for each other. Sam's partly right, Dean. I would never suggest that you have nothing to do with your father, but it's time to do it on your terms, not his. It's time you built a life that doesn't involve you just trying to please him. Look out for Sam instead and he'll look out for you, he can help you settle somewhere and start living before it's too late. Now like I said, I'm going for a walk to stretch those muscles. I will see you boys tomorrow, no doubt."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

The brothers sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts for a while after she left. After a few minutes, Sam broke the silence, "Dean?" 

"Mmm." 

"Are you okay?" 

Dean looked round in surprise at his brother. "Yeah..." He thought it over and added, "I'll be fine, Sam. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." 

"Dean, if I said that to you, what would you do?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You'd worry about me, I don't think there's anything I could say that would stop you worrying and I feel the same about you." 

"She was a good teacher; kind, thoughtful." 

Sam recognised his brother's deflection for what it was and played along, "I can believe that." 

"She helped me learn to read properly. I couldn't before I got to her class. Too thick to do it until she gave me extra lessons." Dean sounded almost amused by what he said. 

"I don't believe that." 

"Ask her." 

"I meant sure I believe that you learnt to read in her class, but not that you were too thick before... How many schools had you been in before this one?" 

"I can't remember... a few I guess." 

"You ever think that had something to do with it?" Sam sounded querulous, annoyed by his brother's inability to accept that he wasn't just thick, that the odds had been stacked against him succeeding.

"You learnt fine even though we moved a lot." 

"Who helped you practise at home, Dean, before this? 

"Same as you." 

"Not true. In fact, it's not even possible. _You _helped me, _you_ practised with me, spent time making sure that I wasn't in the same position." Sam knew it was obvious, so why did Dean remain oblivious to the truth. 

"Whatever." 

"Okay, Dean, we'll drop it. It won't change the truth of what happened but we'll drop it." It boiled down like it always did to Dad. If Dean wasn't responsible then it would mean Dad was and Dean still wouldn't accept that the man was anything less than perfect. Sam didn't want Dean to hate him, not completely, he just wanted him to accept that Dad hadn't put them first when he should, that his priorities were screwed, but the hope of Dean ever admitting that, well Sam figured it wasn't worth holding his breath for that to happen. 

"What did she mean about the jogging?" more deflection from Dean. 

"She was nervous about coming to see you now. I saw her outside walking up and down the parking lot talking to herself. Glad she came in though, I think." 

"I guess." 

"Dean, the doctors were talking about what hapens next..." He looked at his brother fidgetting in front of him. "Hey, it's okay, they're pleased with your progress. They're talking about you being released in maybe a week or so. The only thing is they want us to hang around so you have some out-patient time. Are we going to be okay with that?" 

"I'll be fine. We could just shoot." 

Sometimes Sam wondered if shaking Dean would make a difference, or maybe punching him around a bit because talking didn't seem to sink in. "Is it worth the risk?" 

"What?" 

"Of you not being okay. Look we'll see how it goes, treat it as a few weeks down-time." Sam went with keeping the peace, trying to reason, his brother'd had enough injuries to last a lifetime without Sam giving into the temptation to give him some more. 

"We can't. We need to get back out. Dad's on his..." 

"No." Sam was unequivocal, immovable. He would not allow their father to be the deciding factor this time. 

"What?" 

"I said _no._ No, we don't need to get back out on the hunt until you are well...properly. So no, Dad will have to manage." Sam was not going to back down, not for anything because even if Dean could refuse to see it, Sam was not going to let him be a sacrifice again, not this soon, not while Dean can't stop him. 

"But Sam, it's dangerous for..." 

"You don't think I've noticed. Look at the state of you Dean, how much closer to dead do you want to get?" 

"Sam..." 

"Dean, please. Not never, just not yet. Get better first. Let me feel like we stand a chance of coming out alive because right now it feels like you're committing suicide and taking me with you." 

"I'm not, that's not it. Sam, believe me, I'd do anything to protect you, I just want it to finish." 

"I know all that. I know that you would protect me, I want it to finish too. Dean, I want it to finish with you alive." 

"I... but... if we finish..." 

"Alive, Dean, because it isn't worth it otherwise." Sam couldn't think of anything that Dean can fight that with. 

"A few more weeks, you say..." 

"Yeah." 

"Mmm." Sam figured that right then agreement was not a bad place to start, enthusiasm was probably way too much to ask for from his brother.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

The next two weeks passed quickly and Rose saw as Dean grew steadily stronger, got back on his feet and gradually saw him begin to brighten and become more enthusiastic and push himself further. 

Perversely enough, she was quite sad when the day came for Dean to be released from the hospital. She was pleased that his health had improved so much that his recovery was going well, but once he was out of hospital, she wouldn't see him again and for that she was sad. Each time she looked at him, she could see the young boy with the heart-stopping smile who cared about the people round him even when his own problems were almost insurmountable. That child was wrapped now in a taller frame and stunning good looks but the heart and soul were the same. He was a man about whom she was proud to be able to say, "He was in my class when he was young. He was one of those children who it really was a delight to teach." 

She'd found out the time he would be leaving and was waiting near the nurses for the moment to come. He emerged from his room with his brother and the doctor and a grin for all the nurses. "Well, I'm sorry ladies, but the Doc here says it's time for me to leave as my good looks are distracting you from your work and your other patients are suffering." She heard a few giggles, saw one or two of the nurses blush as if what he'd said held a grain of truth. 

He'd thanked each of them individually, quietly, a personal thank you for what each had done, graced each with their own smile. She saw each nurse glow appreciatively at his attention, at his thoughtfulness. She recognised it, she'd felt it as his teacher, that she'd been the lucky one to have him in her class. 

He'd reached the end of the line and shaken the Doctor's hand. She'd expected him to turn and leave then, but he hadn't. He'd turned to her instead and, with a smile that would have melted her heart if it hadn't already been a slushy mess somewhere behind her rib cage, he hugged her, the same hug he'd given her the last time she'd seen him as a child. Well, it was slightly different now given he was a whole lot taller now. 

She was surprised when he'd kissed her on the cheek and whispered, "You always were the best, Mrs Butler. Don't ever change." She felt the heat rise and her cheeks flush, but when she looked at him, she smiled as she saw him looking sheepish. "Sorry," he said, "I just wanted you to know..." 

She'd stopped him then by putting her hands to either side of his face and pulling him down until she could plant a kiss on his forehead and said, "And you, Dean, are a gift to the world, don't forget that. People are lucky if they get to meet a special boy like you." He'd straightened up then, a flush in his cheeks to match hers, but he'd given her another hug before stepping back. 

"Dean, I got you something to take with you," she'd said then. He'd looked surprised. "It's another book, it's called 'Time Travelers Strictly Cash' by that Spider person we were reading before. I hope you enjoy it." 

"Thanks," he'd said, allowing the warmth of his smile to wash over her again. 

"Come on, special boy," his brother had interrupted. "All this attention is going straight to your ego and if it gets any bigger there won't be room for it in the car." She saw the affectionate smile on Sam's face as he gently clipped his brother round the head, then pushed him towards the door. "Stop mauling these poor women. They don't like it you know." 

"Oh but they do, Sam." 

"Yeah well, the doctor wants them to get some work done today and you might be better but trust me, even you can't handle that many women, so come on we've got places to be and you'll be back in a few days anyway." 

She watched as the two men left together, laughing and smiling, grateful that she'd had the chance to see Dean all grown up and wondered if their paths would ever cross again.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

She was at home a few days later with time on her hands. She'd already done her visiting at the hospital and, as they hadn't asked her to read to anyone new since Dean had been set free, she found herself not knowing what to do. It was funny the way she thought of him as being set free, it wasn't like he'd been imprisoned as such, it was just those last few days before he'd left the hospital had shown how desperate he was to be outside and on the road again. She had added her weight, for what it was worth, to Sam's and the doctors' in trying to convince him to stay in the area for a while. He'd reluctantly agreed but on seeing him as he left the hospital, she'd seen him as a free spirit not meant to be tied down for too long. She just hoped he wouldn't fly away just yet.

She heard a car pull up in the road outside, a door open and close and the car drive away again. She drifted back into the kitchen, contemplating making cookies, not necessarily good for anyone but the grandchildren were always keen to visit if they knew she had made extra cookies. There were only a few left from the last batch.

She jumped as the doorbell rang. She turned toward it wondering who it could be at this time of day, her son and daughter-in-law should be at work and their children at school. She had no idea who the visitor might be. The thought tracked through her mind that if she didn't get a move on, whoever it was would have left anyway.

She opened the door cautiously and peered round. "You should get a security chain fitted for when you don't know who's on the other side," he said.

"Dean! Oh it's lovely to see you. Come on in, honey, come on in." She almost grabbed his jacket in her enthusiasm to pull him inside.

"I brought you these, " he held out a bunch of hand-picked flowers.

"Oh Dean, they're lovely. Thank you."

"Pastor Jim always had a beautiful garden. I didn't think he'd mind if I..." he came to a halt and she saw the pain in his eyes.

"Dean, I was sorry to hear about the Pastor. Sam told me."

"We didn't get to say goodbye, you know, because... because of the crash."

"I'm sorry."

He drew himself up to his full height as a shudder passed through. He smiled sadly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be..."

"Dean, it's okay, come in and sit down properly. The Pastor was a good man, it's a sad loss."

"Yeah, it was. Anyway, I got Sam to drive me up to his place. I store some things up there. He always said he didn't mind. Things that I can't really keep in the car, but you know they're special, I don't want them to get lost." He sat opposite her and she could see he'd got a bag with him. "I guess I'll have to ask Bobby if I could maybe leave it all at his now."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind, he always seemed to be a good man, probably a bit more relaxed than the Pastor and Caleb."

He smiled a genuine grin, "He was a big kid when we were young. Relaxed is probably an understatement. We had a lot of fun with Bobby. Caleb... Caleb was a good man too. He used to take us to the park and out to see things, museums and places like that in holidays, but he was a bit more... reserved. Things were always more planned than with Bobby. Bobby was more of a 'go with the flow' kind of guy."

"It sounds like you had some good times with them both."

"Yeah, we did, them and the Pastor. They were good to us, you know, when Dad was finding it hard, and when he wasn't too, but it meant a lot."

"I know Dean, I know."

"You did too. The ways you helped, despite everything... I mean I was never the easiest kid to have in a class. Enough of my report cards made that clear... but you... you were good to me anyway."

"There was no _anyway_, no _despite everything_. You were a child I found it easy to like, a child I was sorry to lose."

"I think you were an exception. Most of my teachers saw me as trouble, no friends, always fighting, homework never done, skipping out of school... hardly anyone's idea of a good student."

"How many schools did you go to in the end?"

He laughed, "God I have no idea. Too many to count is about all that I can say. I know I stopped even trying to make friends. I mean what was the point? It wasn't like we'd be sticking around, it wasn't like I was going to hang out with anyone after school, I had Sam to think about."

"People didn't look hard enough then, did they? They don't know what they missed."

"You were a wonderful teacher. You and Jim always made me feel... I dunno, good, I guess."

"What you told Sam, the other day, about when you were here, wasn't quite right, was it? You told him he didn't have a coat, that the Pastor had to get him a new one."

"Yeah."

"Sam had a coat. You didn't."

"No, I think..."

"Dean, it was the first time I met the Pastor, I remember. It was fortuitous he turned up when he did. I was debating calling Children's Services that day to come for you. Maybe it wasn't, maybe if you'd been taken then... You had the most awful bruising down one side of your face."

"I'd probably been fighting in the playground..."

"No, you'd not been fighting in school. You had no coat or jumper. At recess you would sit on the steps and you were so cold. In the end, I stopped letting you go out. I got you to do jobs for me so you weren't so cold."

"You were kind."

"I was worried. The day the Pastor came, you'd come to school with no lunch and I was sure it wasn't the first time."

"You've got an incredible memory. I don't remember all this stuff," he tried to laugh it off.

"Dean," she moved to sit beside him, "I think you remember more of it than you're letting on. I think, just like then, you're trying to hide the truth."

"I... You..." He pushed himself up and moved to stand at the window, looking out over her garden. He was quiet for a while and she began to wonder if she'd said too much. "Your garden's real pretty. I used to like Jim's garden. I used to help him with it when we were there..." He went quiet again, she moved to his side, rested her hand on his back and watched his face, as he focussed out into the distance. "You know sometimes I wished and prayed so hard for things to be different, normal. It never happened, so eventually I stopped wishing, I stopped praying. It wasn't worth the heartache and disappointment." She couldn't believe he was finally talking, but she didn't want to say anything and risk him stopping. "In the end, even Pastor Jim stopped expecting me to pray, gave up hope of redeeming me."

"No Dean, not that, I'm sure."

"You think? He still prayed with Sam. He still thought there was hope for Sam."

"I think you're wrong. I think maybe he stopped when prayer no longer offered you comfort and hope, when it hurt you more than helped you."

"I prayed so hard. I prayed that the people I loved would stop being hurt and no-one listened. _God_ never listened, just carried on tearing my family to shreds. I wanted to believe... I wanted to believe there would be an end, that it would stop hurting so much... but it never has. I stopped praying because I thought if I wasn't asking, it wouldn't hurt so much, but it still hurt and it hurt knowing that Sammy was asking and God wasn't listening to him or to Jim. I didn't want things. I only ever asked for him to protect my family."

"And he did, he gave them you."

"But that wasn't enough. I wasn't enough."

"But you were the best he'd got, Dean."

"God, you'd think I was a depressive the way I'm going on. It wasn't why I came. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry. It's a real treat for me to have a visitor who I haven't had to bribe with the offer of cookies." She recognised his attempt to deflect the pain of the conversation and played along, knowing he'd probably admitted to something that he'd never said to anyone before.

"Hey, if I knew there was the chance of cookies, I'd have come sooner and brought Sammy."

"Come and give me a hand and I'll see if there's any left. I was contemplating making some more to try and convince the grandchildren to visit but I'm pretty sure I still have a few left."

The two chatted, relaxed, while she brewed coffee and laid cookies on a plate. "As it's such a lovely day, why don't we sit in the garden for a while and you can tell me why you really came?"

He carried the tray out and saw her settled before heading back inside. When he reappeared a minute or two later, he was carrying the bag she'd seen earlier. "I wanted to show you this," he said, holding the bag out to her.

She looked at him, curiosity in her eyes. She took the bag from him and looked inside as he sat down. It only took one glance for her to recognise it as a book she'd read time and again to countless groups of children.

"I love this book, it's one of my favourite children's books of all times, "The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein." She smiled at him affectionately, "Why show me this one, Dean?"

"Look inside," he looked embarrassed. She opened the front cover and saw a book plate inside with ornate calligraphy. She read the words inside, "Presented to Dean Winchester by Mrs Butler, his friend and teacher" and the memory of their final meeting before he left the school came flooding back to her.

"You brought me flowers from Pastor Jim's garden then too. Oh Dean! I remember that day! I was so sad to see you leaving, but so relieved to know that you were going to be near the Pastor's and I just wanted it all to work out well for you. I remember giving you this although not writing that inside, but it is how I felt."

"Pastor Jim wrote it for me, told me you were a special person, more than just a teacher. I always knew he was right. I kept the book at his, once Sam was too old for it. I think I read it to Sam so often he knew it by heart before he could read. It's a sad story."

"No, Dean, it's a story of love and understanding, a story of how we sometimes take love and giving for granted from the world around us, from the environment, even from the people. It took the boy until he was an old man to realise how good the tree had always been to him. Half the time, people don't know what they've got until it's too late. One day, Dean, your Dad will realise what he's missed all this time, he'll realise just how much you've given him and how much he should have acknowledged that earlier."

The rest of the afternoon passed in an amiable atmosphere of chatting and recounting of things that had happened to each of them, until Dean's phone rang. It only took a moment for him to agree to be ready to go in a few minutes. Hanging up, he began to make his excuses, but she cut him short, saying, "You've made my day, Dean. I'd love you to come back anytime. I'd love you to stay in touch and if Bobby can't take care of your things, you'd be more than welcome to store them here."

"Thank you," he'd replied. "I'll see you again," and with one last hug, he'd walked down the path as Sam pulled up in a car With a last wave, he'd climbed in the car and she watched as they drove away, feeling lucky to have seen him again.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** When I first started planning this story, this is where I intended to end the story... but then something came to me and I wrote a second ending... one which despite much deliberation I still am not sure about. If you are happy with this as the end of the story, I advise stopping here and not continuing, the second ending is more melancholy, although also ten years in the future, but that is all I will say. If you do stop here, I would like to just say thank you for reading and for those who have sent reviews an extra thank you. Good wishes to you all, Morning Sunlight._


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

In the months and years that followed Dean Winchester became a regular visitor to Rose Butler, well, regular in the sense that whenever he was in the area he would call and visit. She looked forward to his visits and as time passed she introduced him to her family. She was proud of the way her son, Andrew, recognised the goodness in Dean's heart and welcomed the younger man and his brother into their lives.

The years moved on and Rose's eyesight began to fail. Dean didn't stop visiting then, instead, whenever he made it into town, he would stay longer. Each time he would bring a book and would read to her. He would stay until each book was finished. She loved to sit and listen to his warm, reassuring voice. Andrew read to her occasionally, she enjoyed listening but Dean... Dean was something more and his choice of books was far superior to her son's, although that would always remain her secret.

Andrew picked the sort of trashy historical romances she had read to so many people in the hospital. She'd never really enjoyed them, there was nothing really wrong with them but, on the whole, they were too trivial for her liking.

Dean, on the other hand, chose classics, the Brontes, Elizabeth Gaskell, Charles Dickens, great English authors, passionate, stirring and elaborate. She had pointed out that Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights were girly love stories. He'd replied saying they were triumphs, masterpieces but if she didn't like them, he'd go find something different, he knew of a really good horror story that might take her fancy if she wasn't in the mood for a girly love story. She didn't need to be able to see him to hear his smile and the picture in her mind was as vivid as ever.

* * *

He arrived one day and he could see even before she spoke that she was feeling low. Even so, she'd known that he was there before he spoke, "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You're early. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

"Oh so does my smile arrive then or are you not pleased I'm here? I got you some flowers."

"Why Dean? Why bring flowers? Why waste your money? I can't _see_ them anymore Dean."

He'd sat on her bed, taken her in his arms and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Sure you can. Believe me. You've got a whole library of pictures in there. You ready? See this, this one is a freesia." He'd held the flower beneath her nose so as she breathed she inhaled its fragrance; its distinctive scent conjuring in her mind a crystal clear image of the plant, wild in a woodland, cultivated and tamed in her own garden and cut in a vase. He'd gone through every flower in the bunch, then held them out in twos and threes until she had so many pictures of them all and then he held out the vase and she'd seen the whole, known the colours, the sizes and shapes. She cried then and he held her close and whispered, "When it gets dark, you just have to remember to turn on the light." and she'd laughed, reassured by his words.

He'd come more often then, less and less time passed between visits. He cherished every moment they shared, storing them up in his heart. He couldn't describe how it made him feel, a twisted mix of joy and sadness. Joy at what he was experiencing, he wondered if this was what a mother's or grandmother's love felt like as you grew so far from childhood, but he had nothing to compare it with to be sure. The sadness came from knowing that her days were growing fewer, not knowing how many more times he would see her. Each time, she seemed older and frailer and it frightened him, even as he knew she'd had a long life, a good life untouched, untarnished by the supernatural.

* * *

They were driving out one day along some endless piece of tarmac, indistinguishable from thousands of others across the country, nothing to make this one stand out. They weren't talking, not for any reason more than nothing worth breaking the silence for, content in each other's company.

Dean's phone rang and Sam looked across at his brother to see if he could work out who it was calling before Dean told him. He started watching even before Dean had got the phone from his pocket and saw his brother's face pale, as if the phone could only be bearing bad news.

By the time Dean had glanced at the caller display and stopped the car at the side of the deserted road, Sam knew it was trouble. Dean left the car to take the call. Sam stayed where he was, still watching. They had few secrets after so many years together, but both had times when they needed privacy. Seeing his brother close his phone, he expected Dean to head back to the driver's side, but instead he saw Dean slowly turn facing back the way they'd come, his hands come up to his face and his legs fold him down to the ground.

Sam was out of the car and heading for his brother before he even had time to recognise that he'd made a decision to move. Rounding the back of the car, he saw Dean leaning against the bumper, devastation written on his features, legs brought up to his chest. He dropped to his side, hand outstretched to his brother's shoulder.

"She's gone," and Sam didn't need him to say anymore to know he meant Rose, instead he used the outstretched hand to cup his brother's neck and pull him closer. It didn't take long for Dean to pull himself together enough to shrug Sam off, so Sam shifted round to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder. It took fifteen minutes for Dean to speak again. "Andrew called." Sam had no idea what to say so he just stayed still with their shoulders touching.

"He said... he said the funeral was Thursday, asked if we'd go."

"You said yes." Dean nodded. "We'll get there, Dean, we've got plenty of time."

"Time... I knew... I knew she was getting near the end. I just hoped I'd see her again."

"Dean, you'd always feel that way. You would feel like this even if we'd seen her yesterday." Sam realised that for all the deaths Dean had coped with over the years, Rose was probably the first to be natural and expected. The fact that in truth it didn't feel that much easier than the sudden violent, supernatural ones was a shock. "I'm sorry, Dean." He nodded again and Sam rested a hand over his.

They sat in silence for another few minutes until Sam said, "Come on, let's get going. I'll drive for a while." Standing, Sam offered his brother his hand and pulled him up to join him, gently pushing Dean toward the passenger side before heading for the driver's seat and pulling them back onto the road.

* * *

That evening they sat quietly in their motel room, when Dean's phone rang again. Sam watched as Dean looked at the caller display, then tried to pull himself together before answering, "Andrew?"

Sam watched warily, wondering why Rose's son would be calling again so soon and listening to Dean shed no light, just a bare collection of yeses, nos and buts and the view of Dean's already pale and saddened features growing more strained, had Sam fearing some change of heart on Andrew's part, some decision not wanting them at the funeral.

Dean hung up the phone, looking shell-shocked. Sam moved toward him only to see his eyes widen as if in fear of being made to speak to anyone right now. He saw him look to the bathroom and announce his intention to shower. Sam left him to go, not mentioning that he'd already showered, but placing himself near the door in case...

When Dean emerged, his colour was back, although Sam was pretty sure that had more to do with the heat in the bathroom than Dean actually feeling better. He sat on his bed facing Sam. Sam put down the book he'd been reading and moved closer, facing Dean, their knees almost touching. He waited quietly as Dean's eyes focused intently on the floor between them and then on a spot on the wall beyond Sam's left shoulder. Sam saw his face twist with some ill-defined emotion again and put his hand on Dean's knee, startling Dean's attention back to him. "Tell me."

He saw Dean swallow harshly as if fighting an overwhelming emotion. "He said he wants me to say something... you know at the funeral. Why Sam? Why me?"

"Because you would do her proud Dean, because you meant a lot to her, just as she did to you."

"They don't know me. I can't do this."

"Andrew does know you, that's why he's asked."

"I don't know about the rest of her life, what would I say? I should call him back, tell him I can't."

"No, you shouldn't, at least, not tonight. You should think on what he said to you first. Did he give a reason for asking?"

"He said it would mean a lot to him and to Rose if I'd do it."

"You don't want to let either of them down, do you?"

"But..."

"Don't call tonight. Sleep on it, think and we'll talk tomorrow before you decide." Sam was surprised when Dean acquiesced and instead of doing anything, changed and went to bed.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

Sam knew Dean had agreed reluctantly, knew the thought of standing in front of all those strangers filled him with dread, knew he'd spent hours trying to write down exactly what he wanted to express and had struggled to find words that he felt did Rose justice. Sam had read numerous drafts and had known that even the rough first draft would have made Rose proud.

When they'd arrived at Andrew's, both boys had been made welcome as they always were. Andrew's wife, Amy had taken Sam on one side to talk. "How's he doing? I said to Andrew to be prepared that he might not be able to speak at the funeral."

"He's got something written but I don't know. He's not sure he's the right person to speak."

"He is, you know that, right? It would mean a lot to Andrew and to Rose. Do you think it would help if I spoke to him?"

"It might, but I really don't know."

Amy had caught Dean later that day, asked him to help her take some flowers down to the church. He'd gone unquestioningly with her, but she hadn't been surprised by his reaction on reaching the church door. She'd seen him stop dead, unable to cross the threshold. She'd put the flowers in her arms down and had gone back, taking half of those he was carrying, she had slipped her hand in his and drawn him into the church. She'd placed the rest of their things on the floor, then led him down to the front of the church, where she guided him into a pew near the front and went in after him.

"Dean, I know this is hard..."

"I can't do it... there's someone better..."

"No, there isn't. If you could do this, it would mean a lot to Andrew and I, and I think you might find it will help you too."

"I don't know what to say."

"I asked Sam, he said you'd had a go at writing some ideas down. Why don't you let me have a look and help you?"

"I guess so, but if..."

"Let me see it first, Dean, before we think negatively." He handed her the paper he'd written the latest draft on. She read it through, tears filling her eyes again as they had so often since Rose's death. "Dean, this is right. This is what people need to know about Rose. Please, I know it's going to be hard but please do read it tomorrow."

"I don't really know how funerals in churches like this work," he'd said not exactly sure how to explain that those people important to him who'd died and had bodies left had been given hunter's burials not church services.

She'd taken his hands, stilled their anxious movement and talked him through the service, where they would sit, how he and Sam would sit with them in the family seating because that's what they were, family, where he would stand to speak and when. When she'd finished, she had him help place the flowers and then they returned to the house. He'd barely said a word but she had faith that come the service he would be able to speak.

* * *

Sam hadn't left Dean's side for more than a few minutes from when he and Amy had returned from the church. For someone so silent and strong, Sam could see just how fragile his brother was right then. Rose had been his anchor at some of the desperate low points in his life, Sam had loved her for that, but now she was gone and Sam felt like he was trying to fill her shoes.

They were sitting at the front of the church now and Sam could see and feel the tension in his brother. He rested his hand on Dean's back hoping it would give some support. Dean's head turned and he whispered "Sorry," and Sam just shook his head. He was proud of his brother. He felt as Dean's position shifted and saw as Rose's youngest granddaughter, Ellie climbed onto Dean's lap. The eleven year old was lost without her grandmother and was struggling to deal with her emotions. Being able to see how upset her parents were, she'd tried to hide her own pain so they didn't worry about her. When the brothers had arrived, she'd taken to coming to them to help express her grief. Sam figured there was a certain irony to two such emotionally damaged people as himself and Dean being able to help someone else.

Sam felt as Dean shifted again, this time gently passing the petite eleven year old to Sam's lap before making his way to the front of the church. Sam wondered if everyone could tell how upset his brother was, how worried he was about standing in front of everyone in case he let Rose down.

"Is Dean okay?" Ellie whispered into his ear.

"He'll be fine."

"Doesn't he want to talk about Grandma?"

"It's not that. He..." Sam wondered how to explain. "He's just nervous. He wants everyone to know how wonderful she was."

"She was, wasn't she? I think she was the best."

* * *

Dean stood at the front and looked out... all those people waiting to listen to what he'd got to say about Rose. He looked down at what he'd written; it wasn't anywhere near good enough. He swallowed and looked up for Sam and made eye-contact not with his brother but with Ellie. He needed her to know, he needed to tell her just how special Rose had been and so he zoned out everyone else in the church and spoke just to Ellie.

"I first met Rose about thirty years ago, when my family and I lived in this area for a while. Rose, or Mrs Butler as I knew her then, was my teacher. She was special. I can say more than that, I can say that Rose in my experience was unique. She cared about her students beyond the classroom wall, past the end of the school day. She took her work home with her and she took her students to heart. For some of her students, myself included, Rose made a world of difference."

"Rose taught me like hundreds of other children to read, write and do math, but she taught me more than that. She taught me that I could learn, that I could do well, and she taught me that I was worth it. I was worth her time to teach and if I put in the effort, I could learn to do the things she was teaching. She taught me that nothing beats caring for the people around you and watching them succeed and that the best gifts you can give someone are time and love."

Dean paused and looked back at Ellie, saw a sad reminiscent smile on her young face as she held on tight to his brother.

"When my family and I left the area, I was sorry to go because Rose put good memories into my time here. Twenty years passed until Rose and I met again. Rose had been working with the hospital since she retired from teaching, reading to patients who had few visitors. Rose agreed to take part in a radical trial. She gave up time, lots of it, to read to a man who'd been left in a coma following a car accident. He wasn't a local, he wasn't anything special, he wasn't someone anyone here knew. Rose wasn't paid to spend time with any of the people she helped at the hospital. She did it because she could, because she couldn't imagine sitting back at home doing nothing and that decision made the world of difference to my family, because the man in the coma was me. The doctors told me afterwards that the time Rose spent with me was a major factor in my recovery. Rose did not come to read to me because I had been her student, she didn't find that out until later. She came because a nurse told her it might be the difference between my staying in a coma and my recovering. Lucky for me, the nurse was right and Rose helped save me."

"I stayed in touch with Rose after that and over the last ten years, we met often and shared many happy hours, many books and tales. My life was brightened by Rose and I will miss her."

"Rose read a story to me as a child. It was 'The Giving Tree' by Shel Silverstein. I once told her I thought it was a sad story because the boy took from but never appreciated the tree. She told me I was wrong. I think I understand why now. The tree was happy giving and recognition wasn't the important part of being able to give. For Rose, she gave because she enjoyed giving and everyone here was fortunate to see and experience that at some time. I can never repay Rose for all that she gave me, but I just want to say to her for one last time, 'Thank you Rose.'"

* * *

As Dean returned to his seat, Sam was pretty sure there wouldn't be a dry eye in the room. As his brother sat down next to him, Sam reached out to squeeze his arm. He didn't look round, but Sam saw him nod and draw his hand across his eyes. Sam looked down at Ellie to see her watching Dean. She was frowning as she saw another tear track down his cheek. Pushing Sam's arm away, she moved back toward Dean. Sam tried to hold her still to give Dean a bit more time to compose himself, but she wriggled free and put her arms round Dean's neck. He looked at her startled, then opened his arms so she could settle back on his lap. Once comfortable, she wiped the stray tear and Sam heard her say, "You loved Grandma like I did. I miss her Dean."

"Me too, Ellie, me too."

Eventually, Andrew stood and headed to the front to speak. "I want to thank you all for coming today to help us remember and celebrate what a wonderful woman my mother was. My family and I can't imagine how we're going to get through the coming weeks without her, without her smile, her kindness, her wisdom but we will. We will because it's what she would want, it's what she would expect and because she taught us well about how life is about living, sharing and being happy. I am happy... not right this instant, but in my life as a whole. I am happy because I've been taught by the best and I know just how lucky I have been and still am."

"I want to thank everyone who spoke today and shared their memories of Mom, but I especially want to thank Dean, because I know he was worried that people here would think of him as an intruder. In fact over the last few years, he and Sam have become part of _our_ family. He spoke of all the things, Rose gave him and in that he summed up what we all felt. I want to add my voice to his and say, 'Thank you Mom.'"

* * *

Dean and Sam stayed for a few more days after the funeral but when it came time to leave, Sam was pleased to see Dean more centred. They said their goodbyes to Andrew and Amy with an agreement to return for a visit before too long.

Sam sat in the driver's seat and watched as Dean slipped on his dark glasses and settled back as if to sleep. "Wake me when it's my turn to drive," he said and Sam smiled, some things never changed.

"Sure Dean. I'll do that."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading and to those who have reviewed an extra thank you. After much deliberation whilst writing and even more whilst Rae Artemis was kind enough to beta this, I debated on whether to use the last two chapters. I still don't know whether it was the right thing to do... but you've got them now... for good or ill. Thank you for taking the time to read this far. Good wishes to you all, Morning Sunlight._


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